The roll of the land kept her from seeing any details, but it wasn’t hard to imagine what had happened. The vord had circled around the end of the second wall, probably hoping to come at the Legions from the rear, or even to proceed toward the civilians back near Garrison. Instead, they had discovered what anyone who lived in the Calderon Valley knew from the time they were old enough to understand speech—that the mountain’s name was Garados, and that it did not tolerate visitors.
Amara had known the murderous fury was dangerous, but when she imagined what that meant, she hadn’t gotten the right scope of its overwhelming, malevolent power. Clearly, it would seem that Garados was the next best thing to a great fury itself, if not a full-blown superpower in its own right.
“Unbelievable,” she murmured.
“Bloody mountain has been a worry and an almighty trial to me for most of twenty-five years,” Bernard growled. “About time the thing started pulling its weight.”
A few minutes later, a new cry abruptly went up from the vord, a long slow wail that rose and fell in a steady cycle every few seconds. Amara tensed and leaned forward onto the merlon beside her husband, watching the enemy intently.
The vord rushed about, swirling in ranks past and through one another, falling into some sort of unthinkable, alien order and…
And withdrew.
“They’re running!” screamed a legionare.
The men on the wall went berserk with defiance and triumph, screaming imprecations after the retreating vord and raising their weapons into the failing light of the sun. While they did, the vord continued to fall back, and within a few moments, they had all vanished back in the direction from which they had come. A minute later, the only movement on the open field consisted of the still-twitching limbs of slain vord and the black wings of crows swooping down to feast upon the fallen.
“Giraldi,” Bernard said. “Sound stand down. Get a rotation going to get the men food, water, and rest.”
“Yes, sir,” Giraldi said. He saluted and went about his duties.
“That goes for the rest of you, too, people,” Bernard said to his command staff on the roof of the tower. “Get something in your bellies and find a spot to get a nap.”
Amara waited until they had all departed to say, “You did it.”
Bernard grunted and shook his head. “All we did was make them take us seriously. Before today, the vord had never had much in the way of tactics. They just threw more warriors at every problem.” He rubbed at one eye with his forefinger. “Today they tried to turn our flank. Tomorrow…” He shrugged. “They pulled back because someone over there is busy thinking of a way to bring us down. The next time we see them, they’ll have something nasty prepared.”
Amara shivered. He took a step closer and put his arm around her. The movement was awkward in his lorica, but Bernard managed.
“The important thing,” he said, “is that we’re still here. Once we fall back to Garrison, we should be able to hold out for weeks, if need be. We’ve successfully bought time.”
“For what?” Amara asked.
“For the boy to get here,” Bernard said.
“What good will that do us?” she asked. “No one’s sighted the Queen yet.”
Bernard shook his head. “He’s got something tricky in mind. Count on it.”
Amara nodded. “I hope so,” she said. “Love, you should have some food and rest, too.”
“Aye. In just a moment.” His fingers absently stroked her hand. “Pretty sunset, isn’t it?”
“Beautiful,” she replied. She leaned her head on his shoulder.
The sun was nearly gone, its ruddy light glaring into their eyes. Shadows spread long across the Valley’s floor.
And off in the distance, the shrieks of angry vord whispered from the Valley’s walls.
CHAPTER 40
“Let me deal with this,” Invidia snarled. “Give me our earthcrafters and the behemoths, and that wall won’t last five minutes.”
“No,” said the Queen. She paced back and forth beside the pool of water, staring down at it. Her tattered old gown rustled and whispered. “No, not yet,” she said.
“You saw the losses they inflicted.”
The Queen shrugged a shoulder, the motion elegant, at odds with the stained finery she wore. “Losses are to be expected. Especially here, at the last. They revealed hidden capabilities without destroying us, which we will overcome in our next encounter. That is a victory.” She looked up at Invidia sharply. “However, I do not understand why you did not warn me about the great fury in the mountain.”
“Because I didn’t know about it,” Invidia replied, her voice tight. “Obviously.”
“You said you had been here before.”
“To pick up Isana in a wind coach,” Invidia said. “Not to plan an invasion.”
The vord Queen stared at Invidia for a moment, as though she hadn’t quite understood the difference. Then she nodded slowly. “It must be another disparate Aleran experience.”
Invidia folded her arms. “Obviously. It wasn’t a part of the context.”
The Queen tilted her head. “But you intended to conquer Alera.”
“I intended to take it whole,” she said, “by co-opting its system of gover nance. The use of military force was never a preferred course of action. Certainly, there was little probability that I would ever have a need to attack this remote little valley. With the exception of providing a convenient and predictable place for the Marat to attack, it’s been of no historical importance whatsoever.”
At that, Isana looked up from where she sat, near the imprisoned Araris’s feet, and smiled.
Invidia’s presence became suffused with sudden rage, only slowly gathered back under control. The burned woman turned to the Queen, and said, “Every moment we spend here with our forces doing nothing brings complications.”
“They are not ‘our’ forces, Invidia,” the Queen said. “They are mine. And you still think like an Aleran. My troops will not desert in the face of starvation. They will not cast their allegiance with another. They will not hesitate to obey nor refuse to attack an enemy at my command. Do not fear.”
“I am not afraid,” Invidia said, her voice coldly precise.
“Of course you are,” Isana said calmly. “You’re both terrified.”
Invidia’s cold eyes and the Queen’s alien ones both swiveled to come to rest on her. Isana thought that such eyes looked like weapons, somehow, and dangerous ones at that. She further thought that by all rights, she should be frightened herself. But given the past days, she found herself having difficulty giving fear much credit. In her first days in captivity, perhaps fear would have moved her more strongly. Now… no. She was really rather more concerned with the fact that she’d not bathed in days than that her life might come to an end. Terror had worn into worry, and worry was an old companion to any mother.
Isana nodded to the Queen in mock deference, and said, “You’ve been dealt a harsh blow by the first Aleran force actually prepared to resist you. They didn’t have it all their way, of course, because you are unwholesomely powerful. But even so, the valley stands, and thousands of your warriors are no more. And they are ready to continue fighting. The fight seems hopeless to you, and yet they stand and fight and die—which makes you think that perhaps the fight is not hopeless. Yet you cannot see how that would be. You fear that you have overlooked some detail, some fact, some number that might change all of your careful equations—and that terrifies you.”
Isana turned to Invidia, and said, “And you. I almost feel sorry for you, Invidia. At least you had your beauty. And now even that is gone. The only haven left for you, your best hope, is to rule a kingdom of the childless, the aging, the dying. Even if you take your crown, Invidia, you know that you will never be admired, never be envied, never be a mother—and never be loved. Those who endure this war to live under you will fear you. Hate you. Kill you, I should imagine, if they can. And, in the end, there won’t even be anyone left to remember your name as a curse. Your future, no matter what happens, is a long and terrible torment. The brightest end you can hope for is a swift and painless death.” She shook her head. “I… do feel sorry for you, dear. I have good reason to hate you, yet you’ve served yourself a fate worse than any I would ever have imagined, much less wished upon you. Of course you’re afraid.”